How it Feels to Fall
by navigatethismaze
Summary: He knows this is a dream. It has to be a dream. Well, a nightmare, because there's nothing pleasant about this. In which Blaine is a little transparent and really needs to wake up.
1. Part I

**Author's Note: **wheee, I'm starting another fic. This won't be nearly as long as I plan for TLS, but it will be a couple chapters. I'm guessing two, but it could be three. It all depends on how much Blaine talks and, well, if you've read anything of mine before, you know he likes to monologue.

Reviews would make me feel like puppy!blaine with a frisbee. And who doesn't love a puppy with a frisbee?

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><p>How it Feels to Fall<p>

Blaine Anderson is pretty sure he's dreaming.

Clumsy hands reach down and pinch his own arm and though he doesn't wake up, he doesn't quite feel anything either, and he's pretty sure that means that he's fast asleep somewhere. The rule usually is that a pinch will wake you up, but Blaine figures that not feeling it should at least confirm that he's not awake. If that isn't enough to convince him, he's almost certain that the sight that's in front of him is completely impossible. That helps, too.

See, Jesse St. James is crying.

Okay, that's not a very nice thing to say about his best friend, because it's not like Blaine's trying to imply that Jesse doesn't have emotions or anything like that; he has plenty of evidence to the contrary, if he's being completely honest. Though, Blaine's also pretty sure that he's never seen Jesse cry, in all the time that they've been… well, whatever it is that they are. Sure, Jesse _is _quite the drama queen, if Blaine has ever known one (capable of dramatics only rivaled by Rachel Berry) – but as Blaine looks over at his friend, he's definitely certain that he's never seen this before, because Blaine knows that he would remember something so damn heartwrenching. Blaine doesn't think he even saw Jesse shed a tear when they were little… come to think of it, yeah, he was usually the one making the other kids cry (but in his defense, Jesse was only being honest with them… they just couldn't take harsh criticism at the age of five).

So, yeah, Blaine is positive that he's dreaming – because there is no way that Jesse is sitting on the couch of their apartment, tears in his eyes and breathing all ragged. Upon further inspection, Blaine notices that Jesse's hair is unwashed, too… and that right there did it for him. Yep, this is _definitely_ a dream. Though, as he tries to think about what happened before this, he can't really put a finger on it. What was he dreaming about before? He's not sure. Really, Blaine can't remember anything at all before this moment, not even if he really tries – and he does try, just in case he knows what's making Jesse so damn upset. Then again, that's not so weird, is it? Sometimes dreams just work that way. So, he figures he might as well go with it. No sense in letting Jesse cry in front of him, even if it only is a dream.

Blaine takes a seat next to Jesse and all of a sudden, a wave of sadness hits him in the chest. He really can't stand to see him like this, no matter what the circumstances (or the level of reality). Heart twisting, he says, "Jesse? What's wrong?"

Jesse doesn't say a word. He just leans back on the couch and tilts his head towards the ceiling. His eyes are so red and puffy; it sort of scares Blaine a little bit. Why the hell is he dreaming this? He needs to do something, needs to fix this. So, he reaches out and places his hand atop Jesse's. "Hey. Talk to me."

But something's not right. Blaine's hand is there, settled on top of Jesse's, just like normal. Looking at it, nothing seems out of the ordinary but, it doesn't _feel_ right. The thing is, Blaine doesn't feel at all. There's no warmth underneath his fingertips; he doesn't feel Jesse's skin against his own. It's like before, when he pinched his arm and couldn't feel a thing. Blaine lifts his hand and lets it fall against the couch – but there's no sensation there, either. The leather isn't soft against his skin; there might as well have been nothing but air beneath his hand. It's like all of Blaine's nerve endings have gone out. Even sitting on the couch feels odd, now that he notices. He's not falling through it, no, but somehow it's like the cushion isn't even there; Blaine feels like he's floating.

He jumps up and backs away from the couch. He doesn't like this.

"Jesse," Blaine says, "Jesse, please tell me you can hear me."

He knows this is a dream. It _has_ to be a dream. Well, a nightmare, because there's nothing pleasant about this bullshit. Jesse isn't crying anymore, just sitting – and Jesse is _never _just sitting. He's always doing something. Always being productive. Never wasting time, because time is precious and moments cannot be wasted. Of course, that was something Blaine would always tease him about, some nights when they would just lie together, watching a movie or just _being _together_. _Those were some of the few moments that Jesse didn't seem to mind sitting still, and he would always tell Blaine, "I don't consider these moments wasted, do you?" But this? This is so unlike the Jesse that Blaine _knows _better than anyone else on the planet, and just watching him look so _dead _is the most frightening thing he's ever been forced to watch.

"Okay, I can fucking wake up now."

Blaine pinches his skin again. Nothing.

Though, there _is_ a knock at the door. Blaine watches as Jesse scowls before shoving himself off the couch and making his way to the door; even the way he walks is unlike him. One thing Blaine always noticed about Jesse is the way he walks with such purpose – with such intent and spring and determination – yet this Jesse sort of trudges, like it doesn't matter what's on the other end of that door. That too ends up scaring the living shit out of Blaine.

Something else that's weird? The person at the door? It's Kurt… and Blaine hasn't seen him in at least a year and a half.

"Jesse," the boy – er, _man, _now – breathes, and his eyes are just as red as the ones he's looking into. "Wow, they weren't kidding. You look like Hell."

He receives a snort in response. "And you're the picture of glamour yourself."

Blaine looks at Kurt and _oh, _man – he doesn't look well at all, either. His hair is in a better state than Jesse's, and of course his outfit is nothing but designer, but the circles under his eyes tell what his style does not. Even his skin doesn't look right, which instantly makes Blaine fret. Kurt's always on top of his skin care, but there he stands – looking a bit paler than usual and not nearly as glowing. His blue eyes even have _bags_ beneath them, something Blaine's certainly never seen.

"I look better than you do," Kurt says, his lips turning into a thin line. "At least I bothered to get dressed this morning." He makes a face, eyes grazing over his hair. "Have you even showered?"

Jesse makes a move to slam the door in his face, but Kurt is faster. A pale hand reaches up and snatches it before it gets too close and he sighs, expression crumbling into one of sympathy. "Jesse," he says again, "we're worried about you."

"I had no idea you cared." It's dry and callous.

Kurt rolls his eyes. "Fine," he retorts. "Go ahead and hide in your pathetic little room, Jesse – because that's going so well for you. You want to shut everyone out? _Fine. _But, you'd think that you'd at least pay Blaine a visit, if you're as heartbroken as you claim. He'd want you there."

Huh?

"Because you've proven that you know _anything_ about what Blaine wants."

Kurt falters, his jaw going a little slack for a second before hardening completely. "That was low, even for you," he sniffs, one eyebrow raising. "Enjoy your solitude." And he slams the door himself.

Blaine tries to find words. His first instinct is to scold Jesse for talking to Kurt that way; neither of them have seen him for years and Blaine's pretty sure that they put everything behind them. Though, he's having a hard time focusing on that when Kurt's remarks are the ones that stand out the most. What was he talking about? Blaine's starting to get really frightened, because this nightmare is feeling far too real for comfort. Pay Blaine a visit? A visit where? Pieces are starting to fall together in Blaine's head and he tries not to jump to the first bad conclusion he thinks of.

_Am I even alive right now?_

Something stutters in his chest. His heart, right? Yes, his heart is racing. He can't be dead, then. Right? He _can't _be dead. It all makes sense, though – the lack of feeling, the fact no one can hear him… is Blaine a ghost? He bites down on his lip and tries to breathe through his nose… can ghosts have panic attacks? He doesn't think so. Then again, how much does he know about ghosts? He's never really believed in the supernatural, not completely. That is, Blaine has always believed that anything is possible and he supposes that includes ghosts but… no, he _can't _be dead. Not now. Not yet.

What even happened? He can't remember. Blaine looks back over at Jesse and he's on the couch, fingers idly playing with a loose string on one of their throw pillows. A little smile tugs at Blaine's face as he watches, remembering how he and Jesse bickered over those damn things; "what the hell do we need throw pillows for, Blaine? - They just tie the room together, don't you think?" Of course, Jesse didn't really give a shit about décor or what they put in the living room so he just shrugged and let Blaine get the stupid things. Blaine looks at Jesse now and wonders if he's thinking the same thing, fondly remembering their banter and wondering where the time went.

Jesse's breath shutters a little and Blaine thinks that yes, he is.

"I'm so sorry," Jesse says, and Blaine wonders for a split second if he knows he's there. "I just _can't, _Blaine."

Blaine hisses, "can't _what?_" and kneels in front of Jesse, hands falling over the pillow in his lap. He stares at Jesse intently, as if he can will him – _see me, _he thinks. _See me._ After all, Blaine sometimes thinks that Jesse is the only one who ever could. He's trembling a little, terrified that Kurt was talking about Blaine's grave, the way he talked about his mom. _Pay him a visit. _It's what he used to say every Mother's Day, when Blaine would hold his hand as he lay flowers down. _Pay him a visit. _It sounds so formal, like it's one-sided somehow… It's not 'go see Blaine' or 'maybe you should say hello' or anything like that. _Pay him a visit – _like it's something that's owed.

Blaine lets his head fall onto the pillow, not really caring about how wrong it feels – rather, how it _doesn't _feel – and when Jesse places his hands in the same place, Blaine wills himself to be solid. He tries to remember how it felt to be touched by Jesse before, tries to recall all of the times Jesse ran his hands through his hair and does his best to feel it now. Blaine wishes Jesse could hold him, but he can't even _see _him and it's really starting to hurt. He presses his face against the pillow; what does fabric feel like? It's like he can't remember. How do you remember a sense like that? It's like trying to describe what something tastes like when you haven't eaten it in years. Why can't Blaine remember? It was just yesterday that they were on this very couch. It _was _yesterday, wasn't it?

Has he been gone longer? Or do the senses leave us that quickly?

"Please tell me I'm not dead," he whispers. "I'm _so _not ready to be dead yet."

Blaine wonders what Jesse is thinking; he lifts his eyes to look at the other man's face, and he looks so concentrated. He's clearly got wheels turning – Blaine can practically see them – but without the ability to ask, he can only guess.

There's a gut feeling there that Kurt's words are sinking in. Blaine knows Jesse pretty well, and he knows that behind the snark, there's woundedness. _Blaine would want you there. _The ache is so clear in Jesse's eyes and Blaine just wants to shake him and let him know that he wants him to be wherever he's happiest… and he's starting to get the feeling that this apartment isn't so healthy at the moment. On top of that, Blaine really would like to know what the hell is going on, and if Jesse _paying him a visit _will help him on his way… well, that would be greatly appreciated.

"Come see me," Blaine says, trying to make his voice strong – the way he tries to be heard on a normal basis, a way he rarely has to talk to Jesse. "I want you to come see me, Jesse." After a moment he adds, "Please?"

But Jesse doesn't respond. He does, however, stand up and walk away. His body goes right through Blaine – like he isn't even there – and Blaine watches as Jesse grabs a set of keys off the kitchen counter and heads for the door. But when he tries to follow, everything sort of goes black.

In fact, everything _stays _black. Blaine feels like he's floating again and there are voices surrounding him – voices and beeping and the smell of antiseptic.

"I tried," a voice is saying, and Blaine recognizes it to be Kurt. He sounds so agitated. "He's a mess, Rach. He didn't even listen when I told him that Blaine would want him here a—"

Blaine then hears a snort. "Of course he didn't," a woman responds, a voice that couldn't be anyone but Rachel Berry. "You tell Jesse St. James that you know what Blaine wants better than he does and you expect him to take your hand and skip off to the hospital with you?"

Hospital. They're in a hospital. That's a good sign, Blaine thinks. Okay, so it's not a good sign so much as it's a _better _sign than, say, a funeral home.

"I was _in love _with him," Kurt retorts. "You don't think I know him better than his roomma—"

Rachel cuts him off, her voice suddenly bitter. "Oh, they're a little more than roommates and you know it."

Blaine's eyes widen. Or, well, it feels like they do. Really, Blaine can't see anything so he's not really sure if he has eyes to widen… It's not like he can lift an arm in front of his face to see it, or really move at all. Blaine pretty much feels like he doesn't exist, which scares the crap out of him; he liked it better when he was a ghost. Right now, he's just… there, wherever that is. Not only that, but Rachel and Kurt are debating the nature of he and Jesse's relationship and it's making him more than a little uncomfortable – namely because he spends half of his time silently doing that himself and something about his ex boyfriend and Jesse's ex girlfriend having it out in what Blaine presumes to be his hospital room really puts him on edge.

The fact of the matter is, Blaine isn't really sure _what _he and Jesse are – and while on one hand, he's perfectly fine with that because at least he has Jesse – on the other… okay, no, he's not okay with it at _all… _but he has been absolutely content with pretending to be, because the last thing he wants to do is throw around words like 'boyfriend' and God forbid the one closer to his heart, 'life-partner,' just in case he scare Jesse off. See, Blaine would rather be confused than be nothing at all. Blaine's terrified of being _nothing, _if he's completely honest, but it's how he ends up feeling most of the time. It's different with Jesse, though, because he makes Blaine feel so wanted and special… which Blaine guesses is a little ironic in the scheme of things, but he was never one to care for irony. No, but he does care about Jesse and that just has to be enough. Yet here he is, listening to Rachel and Kurt discuss it all. He wants to throw up. Can ghosts throw up? Huh.

"I don't really believe that my relationship with Blaine is any of your business." Jesse's voice suddenly makes Blaine feel a bit more at ease. He wants to smile, but he's not sure he has lips.

Rachel's voice comes next. "Jesse! You're here." Blaine's not sure if there's more relief or embarrassment in her voice. "We were just…" she stops, slightly flustered and Blaine can practically see Jesse's eyebrows raising.

Come to think of it, Blaine can see all of them if he really tries. He can imagine them all there – Jesse looking irritated and grouchy, Rachel sitting beside the bed with those doe-eyes, and Kurt, unashamed and unimpressed on the opposite side. He likes painting the image more than he does darkness, so he keeps on with it; it makes him feel more real.

"You've cleaned up," Kurt says, and his voice is clipped. "Good to know that you've clung to enough self-respect to not leave your house looking utterly homeless."

Blaine imagines Jesse's eyes narrowing. "Yes, speaking of self-respect," he retorts, "I find it pretty interesting that you don't have a problem staying at Blaine's side when it's convenient for you." Blaine can see him glare – he knows Jesse's expressions far too well, and Blaine feels small just thinking about it. Automatically, he feels bad for Kurt… but, at the same time, he has to admit that the attempt at protection does make him feel sort of good. Jesse is nearly speaking through his teeth when he says, "Don't you have somewhere else to be?"

"That's enough of that." Rachel's voice stuns Blaine a little. "You both can cut it out. We all know how much respect you have for _yourselves, _but how about a little for Blaine, please? You know, they say coma patients can hear you."

First, Blaine feels more grateful for Rachel Berry than he ever has. She's never stood up for him like that before, and Blaine is incredibly thankful that someone stopped those two while he couldn't; that wasn't a fight he wanted to hear or pretend to see. But then her second sentence kicks in. _Coma patients can hear you. _

He barely hears her say, "Kurt, I think it's best that you go," before everything goes dark for a second time.


	2. Part II

**Author's Note: **Look, I'm alive and stuff! Okay, so this is really different than anything I've ever written so... sorry it took so long. There will be one more part after all. Oh, Blainers. Rambling on and on like you do.

Seriously, though, reviews are like Christmas presents. Do tell me what you think of this crazy thing.

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><p>Part II<p>

_I am in love with what we are,  
><em>_not what we should be._

"Miranda?" Blaine hears, "it's Jesse… Yes, I know it's been a while…" A weak chuckle. "I'll be sure to tell Blaine you said so… but, ma'am, there's something you need to know… No, _I'm _fine, but if you could make it up here to see Blaine…"

Jesse's words start to fade as if Blaine is hearing him through a radio and he's traveling out of its range. There's a bit of fuzziness, and then nothing at all.

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><p>The next thing Blaine is conscious of is the return of the antiseptic smell. He takes a deep breath though his mouth, trying to avoid it, and his eyes flash open. This time he can see the room - with its machines, scuffed up tile, and hideous green wallpaper… but none of that is what makes Blaine wish that he could go back to the darkness. No, it's because he sees Jesse, his head resting in his arms, which lie atop the edge of the hospital bed. He's sleeping there, slumped over in total exhaustion, as if he'd saved it until he absolutely could not stay awake anymore. There is something so sad about the picture and Blaine instantly wants to lift Jesse into his arms and carry him off to a bed (because there is no way that's good for his back). But Blaine can't. He can't do a damn thing because the hospital bed Jesse leans against is his, and Blaine feels his breath catch in his throat when he looks and finally sees with his own eyes what sort of state he's in.<p>

It's weird, looking down at the bed and seeing himself. It doesn't even look like him, to be honest, because the man in the bed highly resembles one giant bruise. If something isn't swollen, it's wrapped up in either gauze or bandage, and there's a tube reaching into Blaine's throat. A hand instantly flies to the spot on his own neck, as if Blaine's afraid that something will be there – and then he remembers: he can't feel anything anyway. He understands why Jesse didn't want to be here; there's nothing pretty about the way Blaine's body lies there, looking more like a beat up doll than a person… and Blaine thinks for a moment that maybe it would have been best that Jesse stay away.

If things were reversed, Blaine doesn't think he'd be able to look at the man he loves in such a state. Then again, he's not really sure if Jesse loves him so…

"Jesse." The astonished whisper stops Blaine's train of thought. It's Rachel again, and there Blaine goes being unbelievably grateful for her again. He watches as she trots to his side and lays a slender hand on his back, shaking him somewhat roughly. "Jesse, wake up."

He shoots up, eyes wide and alert, like even in sleep he'd been anxious. His eyes first go to Blaine's body, then to the machines (as if he even knows what they mean), and then finally to Rachel, who's looking at him with the most pitiful expression.

"When we said that you ought to come see him, we didn't mean that you should move in."

Jesse snorts and his gaze turns back to Blaine's face. Well, the one he can see, anyway. He retorts, "Well, aren't you difficult to please…"

"Jesse."

There's a sigh. "Now that I'm here, I don't feel comfortable leaving," Jesse admits, and Blaine's heart feels like its sinking. "If something happens, I need to be here."

Oddly enough, Blaine smiles a very small, fond smile. That's the Jesse he knows, always needing to be in control, needing to be present for all of the action.

"They'll call you, you know," Rachel tells him, "if anything changes."

Jesse replies, "Yeah, well, that's not good enough." He looks away from Blaine then, opting to look at Rachel when he adds, "Whatever happens, I don't want to hear that particular piece of news through a telephone."

There is a brief pause while the statement settles; Blaine realizes that Jesse is battling with the realization that his _roommate _could never wake up. It seems they all are. But then:

"You really care about him." Rachel sounds somewhat surprised when she says it.

Jesse looks like he's going to roll his eyes, but he turns back to the man in the bandages instead. The way he looks at him makes Blaine's stomach do a flip. "He's my best friend."

"That's not what I meant."

_Oh. _Blaine and Jesse seem to realize at the same time that Rachel Berry is daring to ask what neither of them were brave enough to seek an answer to themselves. Blaine feels like all of the air is sucked out of his chest; he bites down on his lip as he watches Jesse mule over how to answer. It takes a few moments, but Jesse says, "I don't want to lose him."

Blaine still isn't breathing; not that it matters. He's just a ghost, anyway.

Rachel sits down on the bed by Blaine's feet, eyes trained on Jesse. When she breathes, it seems to shudder, but she reaches over and takes one of Jesse's hands in her own anyway. Blaine sees Jesse turn to look at her before entwining their fingers properly and giving her hand a grateful squeeze. Rachel smiles a little, but he doesn't return it fully. "It's weird," she admits, and Blaine watches with curiosity. "I've never seen you like this."

"Like what?"

"Like you're actually nervous about something."

Jesse raises his eyebrows. "Then you haven't been looking." There's a silence then, where nothing can be heard but the beeping of machines; Blaine's heart is literally the only sound in the room. Rachel tilts her head and Jesse explains, "I never wanted to hurt you, Rachel, and I certainly never wanted to lose you."

Blaine's jaw goes a little slack and he's instantly nervous, too. He knows how awful Jesse feels about what happened between them. Blaine knows how much Jesse regrets… and suddenly, he feels even more insecure than usual, watching Jesse admit all of that to Rachel.

She stares at him, like she's waiting for him to say something more, like there are words that Rachel is expecting to hear. Blaine feels sicker than before.

But then Jesse says, "I made a lot of mistakes when it came to us," and Rachel looks as blindsided as Blaine feels. Jesse suddenly looks back to Blaine again and he adds, "You'd think that I would have learned something."

Something in Rachel's voice sounds a little forced, but she replies, "Yeah, well, we're all guilty of that." Jesse doesn't look back at her, but she doesn't seem to mind; it's almost like she's talking more to herself than anything, like her words were meant to have been an aside. "I meant what I said, earlier. He may be able to hear you." Rachel squeezes his hand before letting it go. When Jesse looks over to her, she's starting to walk away. "I'm sure he'll be willing to listen."

"Rachel, I—"

She cuts him off. "We'll talk later. I'd rather have your full attention when we have this particular conversation." She smirks in spite of herself. "Well, I'd rather have full attention during every conversation but…"

"I know." Jesse is smiling, and it makes Blaine smile a little.

Rachel shakes her head. "And you were wrong," she says, halfway out the door. "You're definitely a bigger drama queen than I am."

She's gone, and Jesse takes Blaine's hand again.

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><p>Blaine's not sure how much time has passed, but it's been a while, and Jesse still hasn't spoken a word. He remains in the same spot, in that chair beside the bed, both of his hands wrapped around one of Blaine's. The supposed Ghost leans back against the wall, watching the scene with an eerie sense of foreboding, occasionally glancing towards the machines like the numbers actually make sense to his untrained eye.<p>

It's strange, watching himself slowly die. At least, that's what it feels like. Blaine feels something sinking inside, like he's fading bit by bit – and isn't that how these things work in the movies, anyway? Blaine keeps looking down at his hand to see if the color's faded at all. That's just like him, though, relying solely on what he's seen in movies to imagine what happens next. He's so fanciful like that, always crossing his fingers for the happy ending and relying on fictional characters to explain experiences he's never had. Then again, isn't that just like everyone? Blaine hopes so.

It's getting pretty fucking frustrating, just standing there and watching Jesse mope, being forced to wonder what's going on in that big head of his. Blaine wants to know what he's thinking, because he's never been sure, and right now it's never been more important. Blaine watches nurses file in and out, check the machines, adjust his IV, mutter about how there's been no change – all the while, Jesse neglecting to even acknowledge their presence. Eventually, Blaine ends up sitting on his own bed, near his own feet. It's still strange; he still can't feel a thing… but he feels better, close to Jesse.

"I can hear you," he says. "Just this once, _please _listen to Rachel Berry."

Because, the thing is, Blaine has never been more terrified – but it's not because he could be dying. It's not because he's stuck in a coma, forced for whatever reason to watch the aftermath. No, it's because he has no idea what he'll even come back to if he wakes up. It's because he doesn't know what to expect. Really, it's because he's not sure what he has to even open his eyes to.

"I'm sorry," Jesse says, and Blaine snaps to attention. Those words so rarely leave his lips, and here they are the second time today. "Fuck, this is all my fault."

And it's weird, but when Blaine looks into Jesse's face and sees the guilt hovering in those eyes for the first time, it's like a switch goes off and he remembers.

He remembers the way he and Jesse exchanged that glance the other night at the bar, when Jesse ran into an old friend from college.

_"Ryan,"_ he'd said, smiling in a way that Blaine recognized as false._ "This is Blaine, my…"_ Oh, that's right. There had been that pause, Jesse unsure of what to say and Blaine glancing over expectantly. After a second, Jesse had finished, _"my roommate."_

Blaine remembers the way his stomach sank, the disappointment he'd felt, even though he supposes he hadn't _truly _expected Jesse to drop any of the other words that came to Blaine's own mind. They'd been doing that dance for a while, but Blaine had been fed up and was ready for it to stop. Without thinking, he'd said, _"Is that all I am?"_

Jesse's friend had quirked an eyebrow and Jesse himself looked over at Blaine, but he hadn't said anything right away. Thinking about it, Blaine realizes that he hadn't given him enough time, because it had only been a fleeting second before Blaine had said, _"Actually, don't answer that,"_ and left the scene before things got messy (of course, because that's just like him, he realizes with a pang – run, run, run, as fast as he can).

Blaine remembers not paying attention as he tried to get away from the building before Jesse could chase him. He suddenly, clearly recalls stepping into the street without really looking. Blaine remember blackness all too well. He remembers the sound of sirens. And then he was in their apartment, spotting Jesse on the couch… and, _oh,_ it all makes sense.

"You're not the idiot that walked in front of a car," he deadpans, looking at Jesse. "You're actually blaming yourself for this, aren't you?" Blaine groans. "Oh, don't be stupid…"

But he's interrupted by someone Jesse can actually _hear._

Kurt's voice comes from the doorway when he says, "Do you love him?" No hello, no introduction. Oh, but that's Kurt, isn't it? There's no need for pleasantries. There's no need to beat around the bush. All he wants to do is chase the elephant out of the room.

Blaine looks only at Jesse as he awaits an answer (hoping for one in particular), a piece of him deflating when the reply is: "I don't believe that is any of your business, Kurt."

Kurt doesn't deflate, however. He presses, "Does _he_ know?"

And in this moment, Blaine remembers one of the reasons he loved Kurt – and also one of the things that tore them apart – he is completely and utterly _relentless _when he wants to be. Kurt stands there, so defiant and strong, eyebrows arched expectantly. Yet, he also looks so earnest, his eyes wide and knowing; they're the eyes of someone who refuses to be dismissed, the eyes of someone who wants answers, even though he sort of already knows them. Blaine feels so much of himself break when he looks at Kurt, because he remembers how much he looked up to him – how much he always will – simply because of the way he stands right now, like a boulder that cannot be moved. Perhaps, Blaine thinks, that is why they never could have worked forever: because while Kurt is the immovable rock, Blaine is the sinuous breeze, never quite standing still. Kurt knows where he needs to be, while Blaine never wants the same thing twice – or, more accurately, he's never really known at all. He's been constantly searching, constantly swaying, never really certain where he feels comfortable falling still.

Until he was swept up by the hurricane that is Jesse St. James, that is, and he's been spinning there since, so completely clueless and absolutely certain at the same time, waiting to spiral into the eye of the storm.

Jesse's voice is tired when he says, "No, Kurt."

"No you don't love him or no –"

"—No, he doesn't know."

Blaine swears his heart stops, but as he looks over to the machine, there's no change. This grin breaks over his face because okay, maybe it's not been said in the precise order of words that he would have liked – but he's pretty certain Jesse just said that he _loves _him. He stares, wide-eyed, at the disheveled man holding his hand, taking him in and realizing that he's never seen him look so raw. The fact is, Blaine has never seen Jesse St. James look _defeated _and he never wants to again. It's like watching someone be stripped down to basics because they no longer care about the intricacies or the walls any longer – it's watching the strongest man he's ever known be chiseled down. Bare. And all at once, Blaine sees what's been staring him in the face since he saw Jesse on the couch.

Jesse loves him.

_Oh._

"You shouldn't have been the first to hear it."

Kurt sniffs. "You're the one who didn't tell him."

Jesse doesn't answer and Blaine's stomach turns.

"Well," Kurt says, "he didn't tell you, either." He surprises Blaine when he walks over and sits just where Rachel did and shrugs his shoulders. "So, I suppose you're both equally to blame…"

Again, Jesse doesn't speak; he only looks up a Kurt, as if he's trying to guess his angle.

"I should have been there," says Kurt. "When Blaine's dad died, he lashed out and I shouldn't have taken it so personally." Blaine's breath hitches in his throat as he stares; it's something he thinks about often, the way he took his father's death, but it's not something he ever spoke of again, least of all with Kurt, who was most affected by it. "I think he regrets not patching things up once and for all before it was too late and I guess he didn't know what to do with that… but I should have tried harder to keep him from pushing… I just didn't understand, I guess."

Jesse is looking only at Blaine and Blaine is looking only at Kurt, wishing that he could tell him that it was all his fault and to _please _get that damn guilt off his face because it doesn't suit him at all. Kurt is right, though, and Blaine feels a wave of shame roll over as he thinks again about how he retreated into himself; it was the first time he ever did that, too. Blaine isn't really one to push people away – no, he's usually the first one to reach out and clamor for a comforting embrace – but in those months, he was faced with years of unsolved cases suddenly being closed and a relationship ending unfinished. There is so much he never got to say, so much he never got to ask, and Blaine just wanted to get away from it all, the way he did with everything else. But there's no escaping all of that and while Blaine knows that now, all he knew at the time was that he couldn't handle the hugs and the grief and the mourning – so he pushed. For the first time in his life, Blaine Anderson pushed people away, because he just couldn't bring himself to share that burden with anyone, least of all Kurt. And Kurt fought, of course, but harsh words were exchanged and it was only a matter of time before Kurt let Blaine have what he thought he wanted.

Kurt can be relentless, sure. But he also can't put up with being treated like less than he deserves.

That was where Jesse comes in, because no matter what Blaine threw at him, he didn't budge. In fact, he pushed Blaine right back - called him out in ways that only a person who'd known him since he was a toddler could. Things had gotten physical, even; Blaine remembers a time that he pushed Jesse so hard that he actually punched him. But eventually, Blaine stopped resisting Eventually, Blaine let Jesse back in.

It's a door he never closed again – not until that night that he retreated and quite literally _slammed_ it shut, a year and a half later. Oh, and _then_ he got hit by a car.

Blaine's pretty sure it's safe to say he's learned his lesson, thanks. _Message received, universe_. He can wake up anytime, now.

Jesse says, "He misses you, you know."

"He should have called."

"He was too scared," Jesse admits. "He's under the impression that you hate him."

Kurt sighs. "I did."

Blaine bites his lip and Jesse turns to look at Kurt.

"Past tense," he points out.

"Perspective is a funny thing," Kurt muses, looking at the bruised boy in the bed. After a moment he adds, "I don't want to feel like he did."

Jesse's gaze turns, too. "I don't, either."

Perspective _is _a funny thing, because it's then that Blaine realizes exactly what he needs to do when he wakes up. And just as Blaine begins to feel a swell of determination rising in his chest, all of the corners of his vision fade to white.


	3. Part III

When Blaine wakes up, there's a loud ringing in his ears and voices that seem to swirl around him. He feels like he's in one of those cartoons where a character slips on a banana peel and the next thing they know, there are birds running circles around their head – actually, yeah, that's exactly what it feels like, though he isn't sure if Sylvester ever felt this fuzzy. It's sort of like he's floating just above himself, not quite in tune with reality just yet – suspended in that strange place between awake and asleep. He feels awake, but his eyes are still shut… and quite frankly, he has no idea what the fuck happened. Where is he, again? His eyes burn like there's a flashlight pointed at him, the edges of the blackness kind of blotchy, like Blaine is staring into the sun.

There's beeping, too – so much damn beeping and Blaine just wants to open his mouth and beg for it to stop, but he's forgotten how to move his lips. _Shit. _Everything is so loud and he feels so heavy – especially his eyes. It's almost like they're taped together. He feels like he's done this before, like he's been slipping in an out for a while… He tries to shift himself and he feels so weighted down, like his veins are filled with cement. _Just make a fist; that shouldn't be too hard. _He hardly feels his own fingers against his palm, thinks maybe he's not getting anywhere at all, but then he hears:

"Blaine? Are you awake?"

The voice is so familiar, so calming… sort of like music in the way it falls against his ringing ears, gentle and soft. He clings to the sound, to the voice he cannot place, trying to use it as an anchor to reality. He wants to answer but he can't; he's still floating, still in that strange limbo between what is and what can never be. Blaine's head is so foggy, he can't remember anything, certainly not how to form words.

"Blaine, can you hear me?"

It's not the same music this time. This other voice isn't light and musical, but deep, ragged (albeit unusually), and everything Blaine needs to pull himself to the surface. Jesse. He tries again to open his mouth, move something, anything…

"…Mmph," is what he manages. It was going to be a word, but Blaine forgets already what it was. He hears a sigh of relief and then, "Blaine, open your eyes, please." It's a tone he's never heard Jesse use, so gentle and relieved. He wants to oblige but he can't seem to because: one, his eyes are too weighted down and two, it's far too bright out there. It seems so much easier to sink back into the darkness, away from the harshness of the light.

"Too.. bri'ht," he rasps, the word coming out broken and stuttered. It takes a second, but then Jesse laughs and, shit, it's beautiful. It's the best sound in the word and Blaine grabs a hold of it, letting the familiarity wash over him like a wave, shoving him back into consciousness. He needs to see Jesse's face, needs to see that smile again… but it's so hard. Why is it so hard to open his eyes?

"Come on, Blaine," the softer voice says, and he feels pressure in his hand. Suddenly, it hits him: _Kurt. _That's who that was. But, wait… Kurt is _here?_ He feels a strange swell of confusion and relief; what the hell is going on that got _Kurt _to come see him? "We're here," Kurt adds, like he's reading Blaine's mind. "Come back to us." It's a puzzling statement. Come back from _where?_

"Where have I been?" Blaine wonders aloud, his voice horse and confused.

Jesse replies, "Open your eyes and I'll tell you."

And Blaine feels so safe and content, he wants nothing more than to do just that, so he forces his eyes open, blinking a few times as his vision adjusts. Just as expected, he sees Jesse and Kurt… though, he never really thought he'd see the two in a room together. _Seriously, what happened? _He goes to rub his eyes and he finds that both of his hands are being held – one is wrapped in one of Jesse's, the other in both of Kurt's. Blaine is coming back, bit by bit, his senses filing back one by one. It's a slow process, coming back to awareness, but Blaine's never found it so difficult to wake up before. He entwines his fingers with Jesse's and takes a deep, steadying breath – one that only results in a harsh cough.

Jesse jumps a little, his grip tightening on Blaine's hand, and it's sort of weird how helpless he looks. Blaine tries to give him his most convincing, reassuring smile and tells him, "It's okay. I'm okay." This, Blaine notices, allows Jesse's posture to relax.

His head lulls over to face Kurt, a tiny smile playing on his lips. And though his first instinct is to ask what the hell he's doing here, Blaine doesn't quite want to tread such complicated waters just yet, so he says simply, "Hi."

Kurt grins and there are tears in his eyes. This only confuses Blaine further. "Hey," he replies, just as casually. "How are you feeling?"

Blaine considers this for a moment and says, "I guess I'm okay."

A chuckle comes from his left and he turns to look at Jesse, who is looking at him like… Blaine's actually not sure what that look means, but he kind of likes it. Everything is still very fuzzy, so he guesses that maybe he'll realize later, once he feels more normal. He squeezes Jesse's hand.

Kurt pats the top of Blaine's hand and says, "I'll go tell the nurse that you're fully conscious" before excusing himself (and Blaine completely misses the glance that he sends Jesse on the way). Once he's gone, though, Blaine turns his head to Jesse, his lips curving upward again.

"Hey, you."

Jesse chuckles again, and this time it sounds sort of like hysterical relief. "Hey yourself," he says. "We need to have a discussion about your compulsive quest for attention, because this—"

"How long have I been out?"

Jesse hesitates. "A little over a week."

_Over a week. _Blaine was unconscious for _over a week?_

"What the hell happened?"

"You don't remember?" Jesse sounds _and _looks concerned, his brow all furrowed and his lips sort of pursed. "You haven't the slightest clue how you got here?"

Blaine closes his eyes and Jesse's grip tightens around his hand. Blaine thinks that maybe Jesse expects him to slip away again, so he lets his thumb trace against his palm, in some sort of reassurance. "I'm thinking," he tells him, trying his best to organize his foggy thoughts.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Jesse's voice is gentle and patient. Blaine bites down on his lower lip, worried about the wall he's running into. Jesse assures him, "It's okay. The doctor warned us that you might not remember much about the accident."

Blaine echoes the word, "accident."

As Blaine's trying to remember, Jesse's lips are suddenly on his and Blaine's eyes snap back open. _Oh, okay. _It's not making the whole _thought_ process any easier, but then again, Blaine doesn't exactly mind. His hand, still entwined with Jesse's, pulls up to fall on his chest and he swears that Jesse starts smiling against his lips. It's the first time, Blaine realizes, that they're kissing in a public setting and he smiles too – so it doesn't matter that maybe it's sort of sloppy and not winning any _best kiss _awards – because they're here together and, hey, Blaine's alive which is pretty damn cool, to be honest.

Jesse pulls away and says, "If you ever walk into traffic like that again, I'll kill you myself," but it's pretty much the emptiest threat Blaine's ever heard.

"So that's what happened…"

Jesse admits, "Not your finest moment." He's still leaning over the bed, one of his hands wrapped around Blaine's in between them, the other leaning against the railing on the side.

"I'll look both ways from now on."

"You better."

Blaine is all smiles when he says, "I'm sorry I scared you."

"You should be," Jesse replies, and he falls back into his seat, bringing Blaine's hand with him into his lap. There's a shift in tone, though Jesse sounds more stern and irritated than sad. "Seriously, Blaine, what were you thinking?"

Blaine shrugs. "I guess I was upset…"

"Because I introduced you as my roommate."

And, suddenly, Blaine recalls. "Yeah, that was it…" but his voice is passive and sort of lazy, because he's still trying to think back and running into a wall. It's thinning out, but it's still there.

"I'm sorry."

And though the words come as a surprise – has Blaine ever heard Jesse say that before? – there's an odd sense of familiarly that he can't place, sort of like the vague déjà vu you get when something in your waking life reflects a dream. Blaine just says, "Jesse…"

"You are so much more to me than that, Blaine," Jesse spits out. The words aren't rushed, but there's a certain about of pressure behind them, like he's pushing them out with great effort – or it may be just that he's wanted to say them for a while and is finally letting go.

Blaine can't be sure which, because as usual, he has no idea what Jesse is thinking. He wants to interject, but Jesse continues:

"I should have told you that sooner," he says, more confidently. "I've always been just fine with not putting labels on anything, but that's not you. I was selfish to expect that you would just learn to live with it, or whatever excuse I was using to avoid talking about feelings. I've never been good at that. You know that."

Blaine sighs and before he realizes it, he's saying, "better than anyone."

There's a brief silence, during which Blaine lifts his eyes to meet with Jesse's, trying to read his expression. Though, the only thing he can really gauge is that Jesse is probably doing the very same to him. It's going to be some sort of impasse, Blaine thinks, but then Jesse surprises him (as usual).

He says, "I love you."

And even though Blaine doesn't see it coming, his face breaks out into what he can feel must be the goofiest grin he's ever given anyone – and then Jesse is standing and kissing it away, Blaine sitting up in the uncomfortable bed so he can properly wrap his arms around Jesse's neck, fingers tangling in the curls at the base of his neck. When they pull apart for a moment, Blaine can't help the little giggle that falls from his lips, making Jesse laugh and lean in to kiss his cheek, his forehead, his lips again… The warmth in Blaine's chest is unmistakable; that, at least, Blaine sees coming. And so, pulling back just enough to press their foreheads together, he says, "I love you, too."

Someone in the doorway clears their throat, and Jesse pulls back to his seat as the doctor makes his way across the room. There's much to be settled – vitals to be checked, tests to be run, and there's also the matter of Kurt, waiting somewhere outside – but the last thing Blaine has to do is worry. He's got a second chance, and as cliché as it is, he's knows it'll count for something.

After all, he got Jesse St. James to admit that he loves him. The hardest part was over.

…Until, of course, they had to talk about it some more.


End file.
